For Real This Time
by NobleCaliber
Summary: Then it clicks. She once stood in this exact same spot, the exact same thing happening to her. But it's much better now, because he means it this time. He's serious.


A/N: So, that sneak peek was the (happy) relapse of my Psych withdrawal. Imagine what will happen when we actually get a full episode!

Anyways, since those two long minutes, my Psych/Shules muse won't shut up. This is like, I dunno, my fourth story since I've seen it. I haven't gotten any complaints yet, so...

Also, this you can blame on page 2 of my seven home screen pages on my phone for this, that one being the countdown page for Psych and NCIS. The picture I have paired with the little white box that tells me it's still too long away is that of Juliet's face when Sawn proposes to her in _Rob-a-Bye-Baby_.

So this has mentions of (and spoilers for) that episode.

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The card on her desk told her to come here. Now, she doesn't just follow the instructions on random slips of paper. On the front of this card is a bright pineapple and her name reads across the top in Shawn's scribbly scrawl, _Detective Juliet O'Hara_.

Her hast name is at a different angle than the rest of the words, slightly slanted. She stares at the cover for a moment, the off-kilter way it's written throwing her off, somehow making her hesitate to open it, though her thumb rests between the two flaps.

The only words on the inside are an address and a few _x_'s and _o_'s closely followed by his name, hastily written.

She tells Carlton she'll be taking lunch early and he shoots her _that look_ that he uses when he just _knows_ she's going to be with Shawn. Granted, it used to be a lot more disapproving, but it still gets under her skin, makes her insides itch. Plus, it's a touch different today. Exasperation, resign, maybe a dash of happiness.

What she would give to give the other side of her skin a good scratch.

The drive is short, but something is unnerving about it. Lassiter's face, the card. Her detective senses are tingling and while she doesn't want to jump the gun, something is up.

When she arrives, Shawn is waiting patiently at a small outdoor table. Unaware of the smile that takes her hostage, she goes to sit across from him, but just as she pulls the chair out, he stands, handing her a paper cup of coffee.

"Jules, just who I was hoping to see! Let's go for a walk," he slings an arm around her waist, his hand falling lightly on her hip. He likes to feel the light sway of it when they walk like this.

Yeah, something is up. Something is seriously up. "Okay," she drawing out the word unsurely. She sips her coffee and walks where he leads her. He talks, but she doesn't listen. She knows he talks to work out the things going on inside his busy head, if not just for the sake of talking, and his voice is often just a welcome white noise.

His words come without a filter, and she only catches a few phrases, when he seems to be saying something of relative importance.

Meanwhile, she thinks quietly about when and why she's been to the coffee shop, fading a tad into the background, before. She can't place it, and as they round a corner, bringing them back to the small seafront store, she decides she doesn't care.

"Jules, I love you," is the next line out of his mouth.

She smiles. "Love you too, Shawn." She takes one last swig of the now lukewarm coffee and drops the empty cup into a dirty trashcan.

The words are second nature by now, an everyday occurrence. At first, his confession would make her heart thump, almost painfully, in her chest. Now they just make her blood warm, until it feels like the temperature could rival that of Texas in July. The effects change, but never lesson.

"No, Jules. You don't understand," her body is being pulled closer to his now, and despite her confusion she continues to move towards him. She can't help it, he must be magnetic.

Her eyebrows draw together as he considers his statement. "I love you, more than pineapples or smoothies made from them. If I had to choose between all the pineapples in the world- that is, all the god ones, not rotty ones or the ones with bugs- and you, it'd be you, no questions asked."

"Well, I'm so glad I come before fruit." She won't admit it, but her wit has defiantly been upped a notch or two since she and Shawn had started seeing each other.

"'Cause you've got to find that one thing in life that you love the most, you know? The thing that you'd never regret choosing over everything else. An pineapples are great, but they're no you."

Her cheeks flush, and she stares up at him, surprised by his words.

"Gus says I'm bonkers, but I think he's just pissed he hasn't found the Juliet to his Shawn yet," he pauses. "One of these days, though."

"Is this about setting Gus up with that new polygraph tech?"

"No, but we still need to do that," he smiles, not that he ever wasn't.

"Agreed. So what's this about, then?" She finds herself standing with him in the middle of a circle of tables at the café. She's been here before...

"This is about... Well, Juliet." Suddenly, he's left her side, the little breeze caused by the movement taking his place. She's about to protest when she finds him at waist level, on one knee, little box in hand.

"Will you marry me?" Her heart stops, her lungs forget how to work. In essence, she begins to shut down.

Now the pieces all fall together. The slant of her name, Lassiter's face. He knew?

"For real, this time." Ah, that's it. This is the coffee shop, the one where he 'proposed' to her for and undercover operation.

She realizes everyone is staring at them. Her hand over her mouth and her lungs burning as they rediscover the concept of breathing, all she can do is nod and offer her left hand as tears begin to trail down her face.

The gathering crowd cheers as the gold and diamond ring slips onto her finger. She smiles, she once (drunkenly) confessed that she loved her mother's traditional gold set ring, the modern white gold with other stones having no appeal to her. Of course he remembered.

"Lassiter's going to kill me. I love you," Her sentences come out choppy and unrelated, but how is she supposed to form entirely coherent thought when light, bouncing off the new jewelry, is blinding her; when somehow that doesn't hurt her eyes at all?

"No, he's gonna kill _me_. I love you so much, Juliet." as he stands, he wraps his arms around her, pulling her from the ground. She smiles and kisses him.

"Well, that wouldn't be very nice. You've got a fiancé now."

His smile could split his face in two at any moment. "But that childbirth suff? Yeah, not happening."

She can hardly laugh for the size of her grin.

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A/N: The thing about Juliet's preference is completely mine. Nowadays, everyone has their silver or white gold rings, sometimes even with other rare stones (Not that those aren't beautiful) and here I am, completely in love with my mom's ring, traditional gold and diamond. To each their own, I suppose.


End file.
